Anneliese glances at me loading the dishwasher with soap, a heavy silence in the air as she strides over to answer the door. I’m curious to meet Caleb; I’ve heard almost nothing about him, except that he’s a lawyer, that he got the Long Island City high rise with views of the East River in the divorce. I stand up, and walk behind Anneliese, ready to introduce myself.

He’s Black, tall and broad-shouldered, almost taking up the entire doorway. His hair is shaved into a short buzz cut, and he wears a blue button-down, khaki shorts, designer sneakers. Lola and Jordan stand there in his grip, not entirely willing to part with their dad.

“Go on, go to your auntie,” he says, his voice deep and gentle. He nudges Jordan forward, who sighs before letting go of his dad’s hand, a navy backpack with a gaping shark’s mouth embroidered on its edges slung over his left shoulder, and steps into the apartment, disappearing around the corner and into his room.

“I don’t wanna go!” Lola says softly, burying her head into her dad’s leg. “It’s boring in there.” Anneliese laughs and kneels down, spreading her arms wide.

“Am I that forgettable to you?” Lola sticks her thumbs in her mouth, refusing to answer, refusing to move.

“Okay, come on, girl. Daddy’s got to get a move on. Your auntie will take great care of you, and in two weeks, you’ll be right back at home.” Lola finally walks in, bypassing Anneliese’s outstretched arms to go sit on the sofa, taking out an iPad from her own backpack and clicking on a game with loud, jarring music.

Caleb finally notices me and reaches out his hand, smiling with straight white teeth. “I thought Anneliese was the de facto babysitter.” We exchange pleasantries before Caleb goes into detail about the weekend, what activities the kids did, what food they ate. He’s still standing in the doorway, and Anneliese hasn’t invited him in. Their exchange is clipped, no-nonsense, as if they’re going over a briefing in a meeting, instead of the children’s lives. Anneliese keeps her arms crossed, warding off Caleb’s energy.

“May I have a word with you for a minute?” He flits his eyes toward the landing outside the apartment, away from the kids. Anneliese nods, closing the door without locking it.

“I’ll just be a moment,” she says to me, as if I’m the third child in the apartment. But unlike the other two, I know to listen through the door.